"Who has never felt my power. Let her feel yours. By the time the tour is done, she will have had enough."
The man did know what he was suggesting. Reluctantly Darius agreed.
So it was that Koren came to his castle as ad-hoc wife. She made it quite plain that there was no private aspect to the relationship. She was here because Kublai had asked her to be, and she was certain that her mind would be changed not one iota by this experience. She expected to prove herself to her husband.
"I understand your reticence," Darius said. "I will honor your privacy in all things, but when the time of multiplication comes, I shall have to embrace you closely and publicly. You will find it a unique experience."
"I doubt it," she said coldly. "If you touch me anywhere else, I will slap you."
Yes, she did not understand. She would learn a great deal in the next day.
Sexual energy was part of what enabled multiplication, and it was customary for the Cyng to indulge in it with his wife the night before a tour. This was out of the question with Koren, but he did need to do it with someone. If only Colene had returned with him! If only he had understood all of what was at stake, and had insisted that she come here!
So that night he used a device that he feared would shame him if he thought about it: he closed his eyes and visualized Ella as Colene. Then he was most passionate with her. She was quite pleased.
IN the morning they set out on the tour. Darius, Koren, a comedian, a props man, and the castle's regular conjurer stepped onto a large disk, and the conjurer lifted a small disk containing a hair from each of them and activated it. They moved upward as the miniature disk did, floating from the castle court until they were high above the dais. Then the conjurer moved the little disk south toward the model of a castle, and the big disk zoomed in that direction.
It was routine, but Darius' awareness of the other Mode remained, and he continued to appreciate how novel this would seem to Colene. She had told him that her people had huge flying machines, but she didn't believe in magic, so this flying disk would surprise her. Also, the landscape below was beautiful. The rugged crevices of the land formed patterns of ridges, their crystals scintillating, so that it was possible to see circles, triangles, squares, pentagons, and hexagons forming and dissipating as they moved across. Some crystals sent up beams of reflected light that formed three-dimensional figures, the green beams intersecting the red beams and yellow beams, the whole being bathed by diffused light from other crystals. It might be impossible to walk across such terrain, but it was lovely to float across.
The sky, too, was a continuing pleasure. They floated around, above and below the colored clouds, swerving as necessary, and these too were beautiful. Some had patterns on their surfaces, projected from the crystals, and the patterns changed as the perspective did. Yes, Colene would love this, and he would do his best to bring her here and show it to her. If only he had thought it properly through before, and brought her with him despite her nature and her doubt!
Then they came into sight of a village dais, much larger than those for the castles or solitary trees. Here there were thousands of villagers, and around it were the lesser platforms where gardens flourished. At such enclaves the fundamental supplies of the realm were grown and made. A potato, for example, did not just appear when conjured; it was grown and saved, and so was ready for conjuration at need. The children of Cyngs sometimes believed that food came into existence when summoned, but the children of peasants well understood the labors of production.
At locations like these the animals were also raised: cows to produce milk, chickens to produce eggs, and so on. There were grazing daises, and sections where the crystals of the nether terrain were less prominent, so that vegetation could grow and creatures could forage. But people had to watch over these animals, and keep them safe from predators. There were also artisans of many types: woodworkers, metalworkers, stoneworkers, clothworkers, and on. All laboring patiently for their sustenance. No, nothing was free; at every stage there had to be the hands of dedicated men and women. Without such workers, the fine society of mankind would not be possible.
These were the folk who needed joy, for their lives did not provide great amounts of it naturally. Each Cyng was granted a good life, but each Cyng repaid it with the unique service which was the specialty of his post. Thus the society was interactive, but the lives of Cyngs were better than most.
Their disk landed. Immediately, the group stepped off and proceeded to the setting up. Soon there was a little stage, and the villagers were seated around it in concentric circular rows. The whole village assembled; every member of it was eager for joy.
The comedian took a prop and went into his act. He pranced, he twirled, he made grotesque faces. The villagers watched passively. They were not much entertained. This was exactly according to expectation; had they reacted positively, it would have been an indication that their need was not sufficient to warrant this presentation.
Then Darius stepped to the center of the stage. There was a hush of expectation. He turned and gestured to Koren.
The woman came up on the stage. No one introduced her; the villagers were allowed to assume that she was his wife. The wives of Cyngs of Hlahtar changed often, so her newness here did not excite suspicion. She was young, she was beautiful, and she came when called: that was evidence enough.
Koren came to stand immediately before Darius. She was in a glossy black dress that matched her hair, so that it was hard to tell where one left off and the other began. The upper portion flared so as to conceal the shape of her bosom, and the nether portion spread out similarly to hide her legs, in the decorous manner, but it was not possible to completely mask her beauty.
Darius embraced her. He drew her in very close, so that the full length of her body was tight against his own. She was stiff, not liking this, thinking that he was being too familiar. She averted her face, and kept her arms immobile at her sides. But only with close contact could he exert his power efficiently; the effect diminished with distance, causing needless waste.
Then he drew from her. Her vitality came into his body, measure by measure in its measureless fashion, strengthening him while depleting her. It was not a large transfer, but it was significant.
She stood without moving, evidently uncertain what she was experiencing. Then she tried to struggle, but her determination was weak, being the first thing tapped. Her head snapped around; her eyes came to stare into his with the wonder and horror of a captive animal. She would have felt better giving a quantity of the blood of her body. She sank into herself, her vitality waning. She was helpless. Left to her own devices at this moment, she would soon lie down and die, having no further joy of life. She was depleted.
Darius let her go, and turned. He was flush with Keren's joy, taken from her. Then he fed it out to the multitude. It magnified enormously as it extended from him and bathed every seated peasant. Every man, woman, and child received almost as much joy as Koren had lost.
Koren herself received a similar amount, for she was now among the recipients. But her joy was less than it had been, by that small margin, for the multiplying was like the level of water: it might spread to many, but would never exceed the level of its source. She had lost most of her joy, and had most of that loss restored, but that remaining level was lower. Only time would make up that small loss, and she would lose more before she could get that time.
The comedian stepped out again, capering, and now the peasants laughed. Their joy had been lifted to a height not recently experienced. Now they were well satisfied with their lot, and ready to enjoy the festivities.
Darius waved to them, and they cheered him lustily. Then he took Koren by the hand and led her to the traveling disk. She came without resistance, shaken by her recent experience. Her level of joy was now the same as that of the peasants, but to her it seemed inadequate. She had known better; they had not. She had also suffered the shock of sudden depletion, as they had not; their depletion was gradual, as they went
about their dull business. She had perspective.
The party gathered on the disk, and the conjurer lifted it, using his small icon-disk.The power for this came from the Cyng of Pwer, who drew it from the Modes and sent it out to be used as needed. The magic was used only to control it; the power itself was physical, like the things grown and made by the peasants.
They floated to the next village, where they repeated the process. This time Koren was not stiff but was afraid when he embraced her, and familiarity did not seem to make her more comfortable with the process. She looked less beautiful than before, even when most of her joy had been restored. Something new and awful had been introduced to her experience. She was coming to understand why her husband believed that love and marriage were incompatible, with a Cyng of Hlahtar.
They served ten villages on this tour, catching up on those that most needed joy. In a few days there would be another tour, to other villages. The process was continuous, for by the time every village had been served, the first village needed to be served again. The break Darius had taken had allowed many villages to get behind, and a faster schedule would be necessary to restore them.
At last they floated home. Now Darius spoke to Koren. "This is what your husband seeks to spare you. You have lost only about a tenth of your joy this day, but before you can recover that, there will be another tour, and another. In two years, perhaps less, you will be depleted to the extent that it is no longer safe to draw from you, and you will have to be set aside for a fresher woman. Of course I hope to return long before that time, and resume the post. But your love will be better if you become his love-servant instead, for that period."
She stared back at him with hopeless hate. Yes, now she understood. How much better for her to hate Darius than to hate her husband!
His thoughts turned to Colene. She, too, did not understand. She thought love could conquer all. She had been angry when he saw the impossibility of marrying her. Had the transfer of joy been possible in her Mode, he could have demonstrated; then she would have known. As Koren now knew.
THE Chip was ready. It would institute the Virtual Mode. "Now you must understand the deviousness of this process," the Cyng of Pwer said. "It seems that we are sending out several lines of force, and that those lines will anchor in several other Modes, and fix in place the Virtual Mode. One anchor is here, and another should be at the site of the girl you encountered—but only if she catches onto it. If she does not, some other person may do so, fixing the Mode, but your girl will not be in that Mode."
"Colene may not be there?" Darius asked, appalled.
"We can send the line past her, but we can not make her take it. You can judge better than I how likely she is to take it."
"She has to take it!" But there was a troubling doubt there.
"And if she does take it, that anchors only two points. Three more are required, because—"
"Because it takes five points to fix a four-dimensional Mode," Darius said.
"Ah, I see you understand! But we have no control at all over those remaining three. They can be anywhere, and the Virtual Mode may be strange indeed."
"At least they will all be human."
Pwer frowned. "Not necessarily. I have made the setting sapience rather than humanity. Humanity can include anything from our level to complete primitives. With sapience, at least there will in all cases be minds to which you can relate. We hope they will be human."
Darius hoped so too! "I am ready," he said. He had a new pack of supplies, and this time he had something he had not thought to take before: a weapon. It was a primitive sword, which did not require any spell for its effect. It had a sharp point and a sharp edge. He was not proficient in its use, but was satisfied that it would be effective against either animals or unarmed attackers, such as the young men who had attacked him without provocation in Colene's Mode. He also had primitive tools for cutting wood, breaking stone, or making fire. In fact, he had the little box of "matches" Colene had given him. One thing he had learned: not to depend on magic in that realm!
"I hope to return soon," he said. "But if I do not, I thank you for enabling me to make this quest."
"This time I can not bring you back by orienting on a signal key," Pwer reminded him grimly. "You must return by yourself. If you do not return soon, you will gradually lose contact, until finally you will be unable. Do not leave any of your things behind; only you can carry them across the boundaries of the Modes. The Virtual Mode will remain anchored until you come here and touch the anchor place and will it to let go. The Mode exists on its own; we are merely catching an aspect of it and fixing it in place for a time."
"Fix it now," Darius said, stepping into the marked circle. Pwer was full of cautions, but not all of what he said was believable.
The Cyng of Pwer nodded. He lifted his hand, invoking the necessary spell.
Something changed.
CHAPTER 5
SEQIRO
COLENE remained in a daze. He had been right! Darius really was from a far Kingdom of Laughter where magic worked. She had not believed, and so had thrown away her chance for happiness.
Yet he had changed his mind too. He had thought she was full of joy, and had recoiled when she told him the truth. He had wanted only one thing from her, and that had been not her body but her happiness. She had been happy with him; without him she was the same old suicidal shell.
Now she was paging through her Journal, which she kept under lock and key here in Dogwood Bumshed, trying to distract her mind from her present distress by contemplating her past distress. She called it a Journal and not a diary, because "diary" sound like "diarrhea" and she was not about to put her sanitary thoughts in an unsanitary place like that. She made her entries in the form of letters to her friend Maresy, who was actually an imaginary horse. Colene had never had a horse, but always wanted one, not just to ride, but to be her understanding companion. People were not necessarily fit to understand, but Maresy had more than human fathoming. Maresy was a most unusual animal.
TO: Maresy Doats North Forty Pasture Summerland, OK 73500
Dear Maresy,
My friend Eney Locke did the craziest thing last night! She was at this party, and she wandered out on a balcony and gazed down into the concrete alley one floor down, thinking her usual dark thoughts. A boy came out, someone she knew mostly casually, a decent type. He said, "Oh, are you looking for the way out?" and she said, "Yes, but it's not far enough." Then she realized that she had spoken aloud, and he realized that she was neither lost nor joking. He was appalled. "Eney—you mean you're—?" he asked. And she, faced with this excellent chance to confess her secret and perhaps have some sympathy, blew it. "I was joking!" she snapped, and pushed on past him, back into the party where everyone was drunk and happy.
The key to this was that Colene spelled backwards was Eneloc, broken in two with letters added for camouflage: Eney Locke. She was talking about herself, but not directly, in case someone should get at her Journal before she had a chance to destroy it. She had the need to talk to someone, a desperate need, but obviously her parents were out, and she couldn't afford to trust anyone she knew at school. Once she had made the mistake of trusting a friend at camp. Never again! But Maresy was the epitome of equine discretion, partly because she could not speak in any human language. That did not mean that Maresy could not communicate, just that it required special comprehension to know what was on her mind. A horse could say a lot just in the orientation of her ears.
Actually the address was fake. Maresy lived only in her mind. So she had made up a place for the horse to live, and used her own zip code rounded off to the nearest even hundred. As far as she knew, there was no such number, which was fine. She was never actually going to mail any of those letters. For one thing, Maresy didn't live where she seemed; that OK in her address stood for Okay. She was always Okay.
There were boxes in the margins of the Journal. They weren't exactly code; it was just that she drew them when she was disturbed, a
nd the more disturbed she was, the more numerous and elaborate those little boxes became. She didn't need to read the actual entries to know how she had felt when making them; the boxes told. Sometimes there were only one or two plain cubes; sometimes there was an elaborate network of boxes that completely surrounded the text. Sometimes they resembled stalls for Maresy, though the truth was that Maresy was a free horse, unbridled, unsaddled, and unstalled. Maresy was as free as Colene was bound.
She turned to the last entry she had made. It was the day before she had found Darius in the ditch. It was a box done in the shape of an optical illusion, with three projections that weren't actually there when traced back to their sources; one was really the space between the other two. Variations on the figure were common; many people were intrigued by it. She thought the original was like a tuning fork, but it didn't matter. The point was, this was her. She looked just exactly like a girl, but when the lines were traced, there was nothing; she was a girl-shaped space between others, and if the others went away, she would cease to appear to exist. She had really been twisted up then. The day before her adventure had begun.
But from the moment she spied Darius, she had neither written to Maresy nor scratched her wrists. Not till she freaked out Biff with a wholesale slash. No boxes either. Her inner life had changed completely.
Now she was back in her own reality, as it were. She started to draw a box, and watched it take form as if of its own volition. It looked like a cross between a prison cell and an execution platform.
"Oh, Maresy, I need you now!" she breathed. "What am I to do? I didn't trust the man I loved, and now I am alone."
But that wasn't quite true. She had trusted Darius; she just hadn't believed him. She had been willing to sleep practically naked in his arms, but not to stand with him when he tried to go home. Maybe he had seen that, and made it easier for her by pretending she was unsuitable for him.
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